


Drowning In Trouble

by BrattyAmericat



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrattyAmericat/pseuds/BrattyAmericat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an unexpected attack by a German U-Boat, America has a limited amount of time to save an injured England from a quickly sinking ship. Will the Hero be able to save his comrade before it's too late? At the possible cost of his own life? (Coauthor Doodlyood)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface: To Live For The Sea

If there was one thing that Arthur Kirkland loved, it was the sea. It wasn’t just the colors, the deep blue of the water, the way a warm rainbow seemed to fan out before it faded into purple and navy at sunset. It was the air. The slight salty edge that the wind brought into your face somehow had a refreshing quality about it. If Arthur couldn’t be on a boat, then he would rather be on a beach,with the warm sand beneath him... far away from the water though. Nothing could beat it, or he had not come across anything that could at least. It was just how he was; no, it was who he was.

England was born to sail the seas.

And this journey had started out so well. They had set sail without a hitch, the massive war ship lumbering out of the harbor with the long blare of a horn. It was all so thrilling. The men went about their duties and Arthur joined them, his sharp navy uniform firmly pressed. They had prepared to make way for a location in the Atlantic, a line of ally ships on the horizon, a few others close by, and they were feeling a confidence that they perhaps should have avoided as they reached deeper waters, regardless of whether the shore line was still in sight. That fact would be reinforced later, but it would be too late to be of any help by then.

Somewhere, somehow, a German U-Boat had gone undetected, and they were sitting ducks.

The resulting blast was like a cacophony of everything foul, particularly in the underside where Arthur had found himself at the moment of impact. Clanking reverberated off of the walls as men rushed about and headed for safety. Arthur stayed behind, calling out to men further in the ship to give them directions and hopefully lead them to safety. 

As a nation, England didn't have such concerns for himself, after all. The only thing that frightened him was the possibility of drowning, as he was unsure how he would come back to life when stuck at the bottom of the ocean. Still, being stubborn and unwilling to concede defeat, he ran further into the ship only to be repaid by a second torpedo and a giant section of the slowly sinking ship falling on top of him and crushing his legs.

The rest of the men had made it to the deck and were quickly boarding the life boats, making headway towards the closest ally ship, an American flag waving proudly above her hull.

"Bollocks..." He cursed through gritted teeth, trying to lift it up off of himself. Unfortunately he didn't quite have the leverage, and he was suddenly filled with dread as he felt water soaking his clothes. The room was flooding. "Shit..."


	2. America To The Rescue

Despite being fortified between both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans, the sea had never particularly been America's thing. That had always been England's cup of tea, so to speak. Sure, the U.S.A. had a navy, proud and growing, but it was with his ground troops and fly boys that Alfred Jones, America himself, felt most at home. The sure and steady footing of the earth beneath one's boots, or the freedom of the skies, that was the way to go. All of this wobbling back and forth on the water until you were ready to puke shit, that was for the birds. Or fish, in this case, he guessed.

Al's mild sea sickness was soon forgotten, though, as the familiar sounds of explosions filled the air.

Accepting that his naval officers probably knew more about what to do on a water front battle then he, himself personally, did, America swallowed his pride and allowed them to shout out the orders as he made himself helpful anyway he could.

The battle itself was a swift victory, (because the U.S.A. rocked,) and the teenage nation was on his way to the captain for farther orders when they came across the first group of rescued survivors. After the third or fourth group was pulled aboard with no sign of the English avatar himself, America grew concerned enough to start asking questions, and he was not happy with the answers he received.

 

By the time he knew what was going on, and was able to get to the sinking ship with farther rescue crews, the boat was already on it's way down to the ocean floor, leaving the American sailors little time to evacuate anyone left alive.

When one of the sailors they found over there shook his head at Alfred's rushed questioning, saying that Captain Kirkland was lost down below, out of reach, he was shoved aside by the young nation who was determined to prove the man wrong.

Minutes later, the heavy metal doors below deck were forced open, one by one, by the super power. 

The water rushed pass Alfred's feet as he searched, nearly throwing him off balance, and making it difficult to move through the water logged rooms, but the sandy blond persisted, gripping the door frames and walls as needed, and forcing himself to stay up right as he continued forward, calling out for his comrade as he went, until he came upon a heavily damaged area. 

The American's spirits sunk as he looked around and saw the mangled metal walls, knowing that if England wasn't in this room, then there was no possible way for him to go any farther in to save him, not with this kind of destruction blocking his path. “Hey! Anyone in here?” Al yelled above the sound of quickly flowing water, just as he had the the previous rooms, with no luck, and waddled his way in deeper, hoping for the best.

Farther in, the water that sprayed into Arthur's eyes burned, and it choked him when it got into his mouth, but the British nation continued to struggle against the large sheet of metal pinning him in place as the sea water climbed around him. A clawing sense of panic began to grow in his gut but he growled, refusing to succumb to that feeling as long as he could help it. 

It grew more difficult to do so with every second that passed, making him feel like a caged animal as the water reached his waist, his chest, and eventually his shoulders... 

The water just kept climbing and climbing.

The sense of dread that he felt overwhelmed any sense of pain, and it gave him a surge of adrenaline. Arthur then managed to shift the metal just enough to be able to pull himself a bit further out of the water, but after that, he made no more progress... and the water just kept on climbing, the torrent rushing in and drowning out his thoughts.

For a moment, England thought that he was going crazy. He could have sworn that he heard something... and when a voice called out, a familiar voice at that, Arthur saw a ray of hope even as the water reached his neck. "Yes!" He answered as loud as he could, his voice barely restraining the sense of fear that had finally taken over, "I'm over here!"

The water was now Arthur's his chin, but he tried his best to reach up and wave his free hand so that he would be seen.

Alfred was surprised at the relief he felt when he heard the familiar voice of his former 'guardian' over the sound of water, and pushed the feeling away as normal concern that anyone would feel for an ally in need.   
“Keep yelling, would ya!?” The younger nation commanded a few seconds later, grunting and huffing as he tried to shove a piece of broken haul out of the way, heading toward where he thought he heard England shouting from.

"Easier said than done," England had mumbled, trying to keep up his string of shouts to let the American hone in on his position. The lack of leverage, as well as the wet, slippery, smooth surfaces, had made it take much longer then America had liked, before he had finally manage to spot the familiar, uniform clad form in front of him, sputtering. Thankfully, he had made it to him just as he was beginning to really have issues keeping his head above the water.

“You all right?' Al asked out of reflex as he dropped to his knees beside the older nation, leaning down to try and study England's trapped leg. “It's fucked up, man. Your leg, I mean. I don't think you'll lose it or nothin', but...” Alfred muttered, answering his own question. Reaching up to take his glasses off, the American solider pocketed them so that they wouldn't get lost, and wiped the water from his eyes. 

England breathed out under his breath, "Oh, just peachy.” 

Arthur was already pale by that point, but with the news of his leg, (which upon further thought, he realized that he could no longer feel,) he only seemed grow whiter. The injury was going to make it even more of a chore to get out of the sinking ship.

Hunching lower for a better view, America decided on what to do and grabbed the slab of metal, gripping it tight enough that his fingers left indents. “Brace yourself, cause moving this is probably gonna hurt like a bitch.” He warned, and with a grunt of effort, the heavy slab was slowly bent up and away from Arthur's injured leg, letting a rush of red blood color the water as the man was freed.

Sure enough, a wave of pain did penetrate through his body, and England bit back a cry that was almost mottled out by the wave of blackness that temporarily fogged his vision. Somehow, despite the agony, he managed to pull himself further out from under the metal. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Arthur looked down at his damaged limb. He had seen and probably had also experienced far worse before, but the main difference between then and now, was the possibility of drowning. "Bloody hell..." The Brit gritted out, chewing on his lip for a moment.

"Thanks," England finally said, something he probably hadn't said to Alfred in ages, even after the first world war. Not that he wouldn't have before, had America stuck around long enough for him to do so... but he didn't really have time to start thinking about that right then, not when a particularly strong surge of water started to raise the level of sea in the room at a far more alarming rate, and he let out a yelp of alarm at the observation.

Alfred took off his uniform jacket, tearing the sleeve off with a quick jerk. “Don't sweat it.” He replied absently, concentrating on tying the strip of cloth around Arthur's leg to limit the bleeding.

"Also, this is... probably a bad time to mention this," England then continued, his voice trembling, "But those rumors about me and swimming? Well, they're unfortunately true."

America's actions paused for half a second at the sudden confession. “Seriously?” He asked, shaking his head briefly before getting back to work, tightening the knot and moving on to England's other leg. 

Judging the second limb in good enough condition to leave alone for the time being, the sandy blond allowed himself a moment to to give the captain an aspirated look. “A pirate that can't swim? That's just lame. Totally.” The teen informed the former empire bluntly as he stood up. 

Running a hand through his wet hair, America glance over his shoulder towards the exit as he spoke, silently trying to judge the depth of the water that they'd be heading through soon. “Well, that's all right.” He went on, ignoring whatever England might have had to say in responds to that insult, “I'm a hero, so I'll just have to make up for your limey lameness with my star spangled awesomeness!” America stated and turned back around to face England with a bright, photogenic grin, and two thumbs up.

Bending low, the American then grabbed the injured Brit's arm and propped it over his shoulder, helping the older man to his feet. The action was rougher then Alfred liked, since he Arthur was injured, but he was realistic enough to realize, (and he was sure that Arthur was too,) that they didn't exactly have the time for him to be gentle. “Come on, this'll be a piece of cake... it's not like these boats are THAT big or anything...” He joked, knowing perfectly well exactly how large these warship really were, and half dragged Arthur forward, through the nearly chest deep water, towards their escape.


	3. Trouble Comes In Threes

"Gee, how kind of you," Arthur bit out, biting back a whimper at the pain that shot through him. It wouldn’t do to make the younger nation feel guilty, especially not when he was being so truly helpful, coming down here for him... At that idea his cheeks flushed from something other than pain and exertion, perhaps happy that his former colony was willing to do this for him.

“Ah, shucks.... Such kind words of gratitude. You're gonna make me blush.” Alfred deadpanned, figuring that just because he was mentally giving Arthur a free pass to be pissy due to pain, it didn't mean that, as the man rescuing him, Al didn't have the right to be snide right back. 

Okay, so maybe that's not how it worked in his super man comics, but maybe it should have been.

Arthur managed not to snark out an insult in return, somehow stumbling along with the younger country as he was all but dragged forward by the American, his complexion rapidly paling as he continued to lose blood. "Oh yes, its just a wee warship you see... getting out should take no time at all." He grumbled, shaky on his feet in the chest high water, as he clung to America and breathed through his mouth, the action ragged with exertion and pain. "Be careful," England warned suddenly, "There were some unstable... chemicals down below. There might be... some secondary explosions..."

The news of the chemicals didn't improve America's anxious mood and he snorted in distaste at his luck. “'Course there's chemicals. Be too easy if there weren't.”

The two's minor bickering and complaining came to an end as they moved closer to the exit and their progress became more difficult as the ship went from a more horizontal angle into a vertical one, as it sank. Being careful to find proper footing, America used the slick railing to help pull against gravity and the fast flow of the water, and slowly, but surely, they made their way to the next hatch.

“Alright, we're outta here. No problem, huh?” America asked, gradually slipping into his nervous 'rambling mode', a bad habit he had picked up during his own civil war, where he had figured out that by keeping his mind full of useless gibberish, he could forget about any over whelming fears and just do what needed to be done.... and when you were a nation that was used to wide open grasslands and endless mountain ranges, being caught in a tiny, closed container that was quickly filling up with water, seemed like a good enough time as any to chatter away his nervousness. 

“So, there's... there's this old Chinese woman that runs this fruit stand...” Al panted slightly, body tiring with his effort. “... that I go to, ya know? And she got this saying, 'trouble comes in three, then ya get good luck,' or somethin'.”

England looked at America a bit oddly when he began to ramble. He hadn't been around him enough recently to quite get used to his occasion endless talking. Then again, Alfred had always been rather talkative, so for him, of all nations, to have developed a rambling habit, it wasn't that hard to believe. 

"United States," Arthur said softly, "You know the oddest people."

America smiled at the comment, and went right on talking. “Well, the way I figure it, with the attack, the ship sinking, and, and your leg, well, that's three bad things, right? So we should now be 'ship shape'... not literally speaking, of course, considering the shape the ships in right now, so that would be a bad thing, heh...” The teen forced out a laugh, then drew his brows together as a thought hit him. “...unless the attack and sinking ship only counts as one bad omen together...”

His pondering was then interrupted by a sudden shift of the warship, and the sandy blond lost his balance, falling down sharply onto his own knee with a sharp hiss of pain, but he ignored it as he tightened his grip on the metal railing until it creaked beneath his fingers, and America pulled England tight against his chest to make sure that he didn't drop the smaller man. 

Arthur clung to the American even as he was drawn in closer, waiting for the ship to adjust position. When everything finally settled, England finally realized how close he was to his once colony, and it did funny things to his mind that he really didn't care to think about in that moment. 

Those thoughts and feelings seemed highly inappropriate, and they only got worse when those blue eyes opened, and the Englishman had to look away with a blush.

When Alfred open his slightly watering eyes (because banging you knee on a metal edge seriously smarted) as well, he saw familiar green irises uncomfortable too close for a few seconds to long before Arthur turned his head.. “Ah, sorry, haha...” The teenager chuckled awkwardly before quickly working to re-find a secure footing in the invading seawater. “I guess that was the third omen, so we should be good now.” He added.

"Whatever." Was all England managed to say before everything really went to shit.


	4. Where's There's A Will, There's A Way

No sooner then America had regained his footing, there was another sudden shift of the boat, this time followed by a loud explosion. The wall next to them suddenly wasn't there, and before they had time to react, they were forcefully ripped apart from each other as the currents as the water rushed through the new opening, dragging both England and America into the flooded, lower storage department below.

All Arthur knew was pain and darkness. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see, everything was crushing in around him. He tried to kick, but his leg was useless. Unable to swim, all he could do was flounder there in the water. 

Eventually, his lungs began to burn in desperate need of air, but he had long sense lost track of which way was up, or if there was even air up there anymore. His mind raced and, for some odd reason, it kept coming back to Alfred. His obnoxious laughter, his blue eyes, his rambling, his passion... Absently, he realized, having Alfred as his last thoughts wasn't quite the catastrophe he might have thought it would be at one time.

The surprise explosion hadn't given Alfred time to take a breath before they had been engulfed by the sea, either, and his lungs arched, demanding oxygen.

Struggling to break the surface of the water, America came up gasping and sputtering for breath as he clung to a wooden box floating close to the ceiling. Catching his breath, Al felt a rush of panic when he realized that, not only wasn't England with him, but that there also appeared to be no way out.

'Where's there's a will, there's a way.' He corrected himself mental, pushing away his doubt so that he could concentrate on the most important issues first. Looking desperately down through the water's fizzy surface, America felt his moral sink lower, despite his private pep talk, as he failed to spot the other man.... but Alfred still didn't give up hope. Heroes never did.

Instead, the teenager took a deep breath and dived down. The swirling of water and items being washed around with the current made swimming hard work, and the salt burned his eyes and made his already blurry vision worse, but Alfred pushed on, and just when he was about to think that it was all in vain, he finally spotted the former empire.

There was a brief moment where Al thought that he might be too late.... Granted, their kind seemed to have an amazing way of coming back from the dead most of the time, but with the young man approaching exhaustion, he knew it was unlikely that either one of them would make it out alive if he was forced to try and swim with 'dead wight'. Horror filled the nation at the sudden idea of them both being stuck at the bottom of the ocean, doom to repeatedly drown again and again, but the thought was pushed aside in favor of a rush of relief, as he reached out and grabbed England's arm and felt it jerk at the sudden contact.

Pulling Arthur to him as best as he could while the smaller man frayed about in a panic, the Brit's body was obviously desperate for air, so America did the only thing he could think of that he could possible do to help at that moment, and did it without a second thought. 

Gripping a handful of short, blonde hair at the back of Arthur's head, Alfred moved his face to England's and sealed his lips tightly against his mouth. Their eyes, only inches apart, met for the second time, and America exhaled, forcing the last of his breath past the Brit's lips to provided him with much needed oxygen at his own expense, before pushing off the floor and kicking his way back towards the surface, black spots beginning the fill his vision the longer he stayed under.

After the vague sensation of being pulled, Arthur had forced his eyes open against the sting of the salt water as lips were sealed over his, and his lungs found a small respite from their burning desire for air. As he was held securely, his mind raced, hardly able to believe that Alfred was still there, alright, and had saved him yet again from a watery death. 

Sure, there was still plenty of opportunity for them to both drown, but America appeared to be doing his damnedest to keep that from happening.


	5. Sinking Hope

Luckily, America broke the surface not a moment too soon, awkwardly fumbling with his free hand for anything that floated. Clinging desperately to the first cargo container he found, he tugged Arthur over, to grab on to it as well, and panted dizzily, heart and head pounding.

The English nation sucked down air greedily when his head breached the surface and he clung to Alfred with great ferocity as he tried not to hyperventilate. It was with a great amount of self-restraint that he managed to keep from panicking, even when they were at the surface of the water, after all, his leg was useless and he couldn't even swim on the best of days, as it was. "Holy crap..." He finally managed to breathe after a moment. They were in serious hot water, even if said water was cold. "I..." Arthur tried to say, but he didn't know what he wanted to say. Eventually he managed, "Thanks..."

Al nodded in reply, too busy just breathing to speak.

Looking about the room, England began to take note of their surroundings. He knew this room. "This was one of the rooms originally struck..." he managed to explain, once he had caught his breath. However, he was momentarily distracted with how close they were getting to the top of the room as it continued to rapidly fill. "This is on the outside of the ship, so the massive hole in the side is a direct source of sea water..."

The storage box bobbed in the water as Al adjusted his hold on it, nearly losing his grip at statement that had just left England's mouth. Unexpectedly, the teen found himself wondering what it would feel like to drown. As a country, one of their kinda had to expect 'death' from time to time, considering what they lived through, but America had yet to truly fall in war, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of fear wash over him at the idea of dying a slow death that he wasn't sure they'd be able to recovery from if they were at the bottom of the ocean. Unconsciously the younger man hugged his former guardian closer with one arm. 

Swallowing, America then shook his head, unable to look the older nation in the face. He had failed. He couldn't be the hero he had wanted to be. He couldn't save himself, couldn't save Arthur... “I... I'm not sure what to do. England, I...” Alfred broke off, not even sure about what he wanted to say, and settled on just trying to pull them up a bit higher onto the box, to buy them at least a few more seconds of air, though it was a difficult thing to do, considering the item fought his weight in an attempt to stay afloat at the surface.... there was some scientific term for why it did that, Al recalled absently, though he didn't bothered trying to remember it.

It was funny how, rather than feel another wave of fear for his situation, England felt a wave of ... something he either couldn't, or wouldn't, identify, but it was akin to sympathy, or perhaps remorse, for America. Hearing that broken sound to the young nation's voice was almost too much for the island nation to bear and his arm tightened around Alfred in return.

"I-It's alright A-Alfred..." England said in a soft voice. He absently pressed his forehead against America's shoulder, seeking to comfort him in anyway that he could, even as it finally began to dawn on him that he was probably going to die. It bothered him more to think that America was going to die as well, because of him.

Then an idea hit America, suddenly and unexpectedly, like most of his good (and bad) ideas did, and Al's face lite back up with renewed hope. “I got it! I got it!” He exclaimed excitedly, already studying the room below as a plan began to form in his head.


	6. What Goes Down, Must Come Up

Alfred's enthusiasm shocked Arthur into staring at the other nation. "I'm afraid...” He panted, “... I have no idea what... you're going on about," The Brit said in a strained voice, "But please... Let me know if I can help." He wasn't going to go down without a fight, after all.

Looking to England when he spoke, Al offer another bright smile before grabbing the other's arm and swimming them the short distance over to a different crate, one with ropes wrapped and tangled on it. Making sure the lines were secured, the American had his comrade grab onto the ropes while he eagerly began to explain. 

“So, there's no way in hell that I can hold my breath long enough to swim down to where the torpedo busted through the side of the ship, way down there, and still make it to the surface, but, you see this box here?” Alfred paused briefly to make sure that Arthur was situated before taking hold of the rope on the other side of the wooden crate and swam over towards the broken, metal wall, dragging it behind him. 

“Well, I'll just drag it on down, push it through, and cause of the air and junk trapped inside, it'll go right up, like a taxi, to the surface! We'll just have to hold on and enjoy the ride.” He grinned widely. “A piece of cake, just like I told ya! Heh. Bet you were worried there for a second.” The teen finished smugly.

Arthur's eyebrows lifted, impressed that Alfred could think to use buoyancy as a means to get them out of that situation."That's going to take... a great deal of effort... United States." He pointed out, obediently clinging to the box, and used America's more proper moniker as a sign of respect. "But... if you think it will work... "

“I can do this.” America told him firmly, always having been a firm believer that, 'if there was a will, there was a way,' and now that the sandy blond saw a way out, he certainly had the will.

The young nations confidence and determination had only increased with the show of respect, and the trust of leaving the responsibility for their continued safety in his hands, making Alfred want to prove himself the 'Hero' he always claimed to be even more. 

Pulling his arms through the ropes to use it like a shoulder strap to carry the crate on his back, America glanced back at England. “Make sure you hang on, no matter what, cause I don't think I can fetch ya while holding this thing, if you lost your grip and fell, or something....” He said, breathing deeply and trying to get as much oxygen into his system as he could before he went down.

America then nodded at England. “Take a deep breath.” Al told him, then did the same, before grabbing the beams that ran along the metal wall and using his strength to pulling them both under.

Arthur nodded his head and took a deep breath before they were submerged. Keeping his eyes open, he did his best to aid the American. Several times, it was thanks to his intervention that debris didn't get in the way, blocking America's access to the wall. However, as time passed, the Brit's head grew dizzier as his lungs burned and protested in demand of air that they simply were not going to get, making it harder and harder to do much more then hold on.

Slowly, the strong American nation grabbed whatever holds he could find as he pulled the crate farther down under the water, heading towards the broken opening in the metal, using his inhuman might to do so. 

He was surprised at how hard moving a box full of air really could be. 

It had taken a very short amount of time before America had realized that he had missed judge the effort it was going to take to pull off his plan, but seeing their way out only a dozen or so yards away, there was no way Al was going to just give up. 

It wasn't like they really had any other options, anyway.


	7. Up, Up, And Away!

Grunting with effort, a few precious air bubbles escaped Alfred mouth as he managed to pull them a little closer to escape, despite the pulling and tugging of the box as it tried to float back up. Still, the American continued on determinedly, despite the demand of his lungs and the lightheaded feeling that was starting to overtake him due to his oxygen-less work.

With the opening looming so close in front of them, it seemed like a beacon of hope to the bother of them, and Arthur did his best to continue helping Alfred the best he could, grabbing hold of the wall and pushing them down more as well, as they made their way even closer still.

It was with great relief that Alfred finally grabbed onto the shattered edge of the opening, even if the sharp metal was cutting into his palm, and the teen ignored the pain as he pulled them down the last small remaining distance. 

Twisting his body around and pulling his arms free from the rope, America then helped to guild the box out through the opening. The crate pressed up against the rough edge of the hole as he did so, but thankfully, it didn't break the wood.

Unfortunately, though, as the crate slid slowly out, with the majority of it past the edge of opening that was helping Alfred to keep it down, another shift of the ship occurred, causing the ropes to tug free of the strong nation's grip as it jerked up roughly, burning his hands with the friction, and whipping his body around as the air pocket in the container pulled it towards the surface, taking England with it, just as America had predicted. 

Except for the fact that the sudden spinning of America's body had disoriented the teen momentarily, ruining his chance to escape along with the other nation, and leaving him below, alone in the sinking ship.


	8. Soggy Snogging

It was an odd sensation, being pulled up through the water at such a rate of speed. England surely would have lost his grip if his hand hadn't been thoroughly tangled in the ropes surrounding the box. Soon, he was at the surface, where he gasped desperately for breath. The plan had been successfully!

Once Arthur could think clearly, he began to whip around in search of Alfred, and cold dread built in the pit of his stomach when he realized that the American wasn't anywhere in sight. "Alfred!" England screamed, even as he clung desperately to the box. He was panicked. Where was the young nation?! He couldn't still be... Oh God... This was his fault! Alfred was still down there! 

A rescue boat pulled up beside him shortly, but the Brit struggled against the men, cursing and shouting about not leaving until Alfred was alright, insisting that someone go down after him. It wasn't a logical plea, but Arthur was desperate.

Several minutes passed with the rescue workers trying to calm the panicked nation as they had others look around the floating wreckage for any other additional survivors, but when they returned, one of the sailor stepped forward to inform the group that the area had been surveyed, and that anyone not account for was to be considered lost with the ship. 

Arthur wasn't having any of their nonsense, though. Alfred was somewhere down there, and he'd be damned if he gave up on getting him back to the surface. "Let me go! Let me go this instant, you damn fools! He's not dead! I swear he's not dead, because if that idiot died, I'll revive him and kill him again myself! Alfred!”

Suddenly, there was loud splashing coming from nearby, as Arthur finally managed to rip himself away from the rescue workers. "There, there!" He shouted, directing the men towards the sound.

Flaying around, America grabbed the first piece of large, floating rubbish he found to help keep himself above the rippling water, coughing violently as his lungs tried to force out the mouths full of water he had breathed in, choked on, and swallowed before he had managed to break through the surface. 

Head and heart pounding, Alfred gasped in lungful after lungful of sweet, sweet oxygen, and was too busy just trying to breath to take notice of the rescuers in the small boat, not too far away. When they finally reached the young nation and had pulled him from the water, the teenager didn't even have time to think about how nice it was too have something solid under him again before Arthur had rushed over to grip the front of his uniform, shaking the ever living daylights out of him.

Still dazed and confused from the lack of air, (not to mention the fact that he was currently being shaken,) the American smiled, relieved to see England alive and well, for the most part.

"You damn idiot!" The Englishman choked out, "I can't believe... don't you ever... Oh God..." England didn't even care about his leg, which was still bleeding, (it would heal, anyway,) nor the men yelling at him to settle down.

He had nearly died! Alfred had nearly died! He had the right to be manic! "You are such an idiot!" Arthur emphasized, and then his hands were in America's wet hair, and he was no longer using his mouth to chastise the younger nation. 

America had just chuckled lightly at the insults, too happy with knowing that they had both survived to care about what was being said, and he absently reached up to push his wet bangs aside when the English captain's unexpected actions suddenly halted his movements. 

Arthur was kissing him.


	9. Didyoujustkissme?

Gasping, Alfred's mouth fell open, more in surprise then invitation, and he froze up as his already unfocused, befuddled mind tried to process exactly what was going on. His brain got about as far registering the fact that England was KISSING him before his body had decided that it had more important things to deal with. 

Shoving Arthur off of him, Al turned away, hunching over slightly, and coughed loudly as he hacked up the remaining water in his lungs and stomach.

England's first responds to being so unceremoniously pushed aside was indignation, (he wasn't THAT bad of a kisser, after all,) however, when he realized that Alfred was just vomiting up more sea water, he felt strangely grateful, and then started to laugh, because the action seemed oddly suiting. "Bloody idiot," He said more affectionately, although there was still some bite to it.

Once the water was expelled, the teenage nation kept his head down for a little as he panted until his attention focused on the warm laughter. America wasn't sure what was so funny... all he knew was that he was confused as hell. 

Lifting his head, Al then blinked owlishly at the fuzzy face in front of him as he tried to figure out if that kiss had really just happened, or if the lack of air had caused some sort of brain damage. 

“Didyoujustkissme?” The American blurted out in shocked rush of disbelief. There was no way possible way that England had kiss him.

Seeing that both men obviously weren't going to die any time soon, the rescue workers made themselves busy with the other survivors, knowing that near death experiences often lead to strange moments between people, which they didn't want to stand around, awkwardly watching.

"Uhh..." England began less than eloquently. He was still a bit shocked at his own behavior in all actuality. Gentleman didn't just randomly start snogging people, especially in public. Kinky ex-pirates, perhaps, but Arthur tried not to let that particular aspect of his personality out too often. However, there was no point in quibbling about it, really. There were witnesses after all. "Yes," he then finally said, looking down and picking at his destroyed pants, absently focusing on the tingle of his healing leg. "I believe I did."


	10. But Why Did You Kiss Me?

England's admittance to the kiss caused the younger nation's cheeks, already pink from the cold water, to flush brightly. Swallowing, Alfred stared at Arthur, trying to make sense of the whole odd situation. “...Why?” He finally asked, slowly, though the question triggered a series of random thoughts in his own head, which lead to, “I mean, you've kissed me before, as a kid... but not like THAT! Not like France does! I didn't even think you liked me!””

It took England a moment when France's name came up. At first the Brit was just trying to make sure he had actually heard what was said correctly.

"What do you MEAN 'not like France'!? When did you kiss Francis!? I am going to KILL that fucking frog!! That dirty, slimy, penis-brain, wine-drinking, surrender monkey!!" Arthur rambled, his first opening and closing ominously as if he was imagining strangling France while punching him at the same time. And then the rest of what Alfred said kicked in and, already upset, England huffed, crossing his arms as he held himself back from strangling Alfred as well, and said it in a tone that was a bit more biting than he would have liked, "I don't know where you got the notion that I didn't like you. You piss me off a lot, but so does everyone else, so I don't know how you got the idea that I don't like you.”

America hadn't realized his verbal mistake until the angry rant about France had begun, and the teen winced a bit at Arthur's furious ranting, and scooted back a little, away from his form guardian as the man freaked out. 

“Look, I haven't been with him since Louisia... It doesn't matter, it's in the past. ” Al began, but cut himself off before he made things worse, and quickly moved on to the next comment. “But why the hell wouldn't I think you disliked me? Burning down my capital and sinking my ships kinda hinted at it, not to mention the fact that you can't, like, say a single sentence without insulting me half the time....” The American frown, reaching up to straighten his glasses before remembering that he wasn't wearing them, and then quickly dug them out of his pocket. “Ever since I declared independence...”

“This better not be about that damn revolution of yours, because I am pretty fucking proud of you for that.” The English nation interrupted, a little red in the face.

Caught off guard by that comment, Alfred blinked and repeated meekly, “...proud of me?” That hadn't been the response the younger man had been expecting.

Arthur curtly snorted rather righteously. He still didn't understand how Alfred could think that he didn't like him. He was prickly, yes, but... well, dammit, he was always prickly with everyone. That's just how he was, and he probably couldn't be changed by this point.

"Yes," He finally said, "I was proud of you." Arthur straightened his shoulders before he began to go into detail "I was the largest empire in the world, definitely the strongest at the time, and you handed me my ass.” England offered only a lightly bitter smile, the memory making his stomach twist. “Granted, I was rather sore about it at the time, but, well... after I had had some time for reflection, it was obvious that you had done well."

There had been doubt on Alfred's face when Arthur had first started talking, but the tone of voice and look on the Englishman's face made it fairly clear that he wasn't joking, that he meant every word he said... even if it was still hard to believe. 

“Oh, um... thanks?” Unable to confess his own feelings on the subject aloud, and admit how much England's opinion of him had always mattered and about how glad he was to hear him finally say something like that. “But why did you kiss me?” He asked instead, going back to his previous confusion on that topic, a little bit of hope creeping up inside of him as an adolescent crush that he had long since thought he had pushed aside and forgotten began too reappear. Could Arthur possible, maybe, actually.... like him? As in, 'LIKE him', like him?


	11. A Little Slow On The Uptake, Isn't He?

England couldn't help but roll his eyes at America's eloquence. The boy never was very good at words, unless they were written, if that declaration of his was anything to go by. Of course, Arthur always had the feeling that America was much smarter than he let on, but perhaps keeping it secret was a good thing, otherwise people would take him as more of a threat. "You're welcome." He said a bit sarcastically in response to his disappointment in that particular, simple answer.

However, when America asked him again why he had kissed him... England felt himself start to blush. He couldn't quite look America in the face as he started tugging on the shreds of his uniform, a part of his mind noting that his leg had almost healed by this point. 

"Well, uh, you see..." Apparently it was his turn to be less than eloquent. "I guess I was just... happy that you made it out of there, so I didn't have to retrieve you, just to kill you again... Because, well, I might like you enough that I may have missed you, or something, and... “ Oh, bloody hell, this was ridiculous, but at least he was willing to recognize that fact. "…you're annoying, though I don't actually mind that..." Arthur trailed off, blush deepening as he spoke, hoping that Al would understand his round about way of saying that he liked him.

The small smile that had tugged at his lips at hearing the sarcastic 'you're welcome' fell as it was America's turn to be disappointed with the answer he had just been given, completely missing what England had really meant. “Yeah, okay.” Al said, forcing a shrug and his normal smile back onto his face. “Heh, I don't know why you were worried, though. I told you I could do it. I AM a HERO, after all!” He declared and pushed himself up to his feet. 

How dumb could he be, thinking that England might feel THAT way about him... “Still, even though it was, like, totally stupid of you to worry, the sentiment is still appreciated.” America grinned. At least he now, after their little chat, knew that England didn't dislike (hate) him like he had previously thought. “And you're only, like, half the ass I thought ya were, but I'm cool with that, so.... we good then?” The teenager then asked, offering a hand to help the other up since it appeared that the Brit's leg was now mended well enough to support his weight.

The island nation looked at America with a dead pan expression even as he accepted the young nation's help to stand up again. That had been an incredibly lackluster response to his confession, making Arthur think that Alfred might not have realized the meaning behind his less than articulate response.

Suspecting that, England knew he would feel immensely uncomfortable if he just let things stand the way they were. Did America know what he had meant, or didn't he? (And why did he care so much anyway?) 

Well, Arthur was going to have to find out, or he would drive himself mad with questions.


	12. Short And Sweet

"I don't know." England finally said, trying to look uninterested, just in case things didn't work out the way he was hoping that they would, "Are we good? I mean, I did just snogged you in front of your men, in an entirely non-brotherly way, mind you, and admitted that I perhaps liked you, annoying hero complex and everything. So, are we good?" He would have gone for a more subtle approach than this one... but he realized that America probably wouldn't get it, unless he was bashed over the head.

Arthur's responds seemed to confuse Alfred, his smile falling some. Why wouldn't they be 'good'? “We were half drowned, people do weird shit in near death situations. I get it, my guys do too, if that's what you're worried about upsetting me.... ” The teenage nation started, still misunderstanding, but his thoughts came to a halt when the Brit's words and actions really clicked. England had kissed him. Like, really kissed him, in a, as Arthur had just pointed out, totally 'non-brotherly way,' and said that he 'perhaps' liked him... 

Had Arthur just... kinda... 'confessed' to him? 

Seeing that America still didn't seem to be getting it, England let out a tired sigh and decided to be blunt. “Would you complain if I kissed you again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. 
> 
> Well, only one more chapter to go.


	13. Finishing Up Coyly

Alfred could hardly believe the question he had just been asked. Would he complain if the man that he had been crushing on since practically childhood, kissed him? ”No...” Alfred answered the question honestly, without thought, though thought kicked back in a second later, as he realized where they were.

“No! Nonono!” He exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses as he waved his hands frantically, as if to stop England's approach, even though the other country hadn't moved closer yet. “Wait, I mean yes! To the not complaining, I mean, hell....” Al grumbled in a huff, running a hand through his wet hair as he tried to piece his words together correctly.

Taking second to make sure that none of the soldiers were within hearing range, Alfred whispered, “You just can't do that kinda stuff! Not in public! It ain't proper!” 

Arthur watched Alfred's reaction, a look of amusement slowly growing on his face. "So it would be alright to kiss you if we weren't in public?" England said a bit teasingly, laughing lightly at America's renewed blush, but feeling hopeful, due to the reason that he had been denied. "No need to get puritanical about it." He added as they finally made it to the main boat, and moved to climb aboard first.

Unsure of exactly what had just passed between them, (did they just admit to having feelings for each other?,) Alfred hung back and watched the smaller blond as he went to leave, his blue eyes following the older man as he moved towards the ladder.

Pausing with his hand on one of the rungs, the Brit then turned around, offering Alfred a smile. "In other words, I suppose I shall look forward to not being in public with you, sometime in the future." He said coyly, chuckling softly before climbing up the ladder and onto the ship, taking a moment to brush himself off once on deck, and leaving a red faced American to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It looks like we're finally finished! I hope those of you who read the story enjoyed it. :) 
> 
> I personally though it was a fun little adventure with a bit of cute, awkward romance to finish it up, but I'm the author so I might be a little bias. /shrug I'm not sure if I like the title though... 'Drowning In Trouble' just sounds a little to 'pun'ish for the type of story it is, in my opinion. What do you think? Any suggests for a new title?
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this story, check out the sequel, 'Until Death Does Us Part.'

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited version of a role-play I did with my very first Hetalia RP partner. We had some great times, and I was sad to lose her to real life, but it happens to the best of us. :)


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